


Drunk Doesn't Count - Clint's Chapter

by Orlando_Furioso



Series: Hawkfic [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: F/M, In Vino Veritas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlando_Furioso/pseuds/Orlando_Furioso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The same non-summary summary applies.  No apologies!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Doesn't Count - Clint's Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> This would be the next one in the Hawkfic series (3rd for those of you keeping score). Like it or not there's still more dialogue-heavy stories on the way.
> 
> If you want to criticize and/or comment if/when you get to the end I'd appreciate it.

>>>\--------------------->

With another semester of college credit hours successfully behind her, Kate tries to celebrate with some of her friends and classmates.  Finals week had also brought about another cause for celebration.  She had been instrumental in the latest Avenger escapade.  She had come up big when Clint had been incapacitated by forces that even three hundred Spartans might’ve shied away from.  Clint invites her to celebrate her victory at his apartment.  She happily accepts but agrees to meet up with her friends and classmates first.

After Kate finally calls it a night, she heads to Clint’s apartment and makes her way up to the rooftop.  When she opens the door and surveys the scene she finds what kind of looks like a party; an anemic party, unlike the ones with all of the residents of Clint’s building, but some kind of party.  Clint is sitting, beer bottle in hand, on the edge of the building alone and turns toward her.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You invited me, remember?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t come.  You never showed up.”  Clint says as he stands.  As he does so Kate notices there’s a certain lack of coordination that immediately signals to Kate that Clint’s been drinking.  More than a little.

“Well, I like to be fashionably late.  Jeez, Clint how many have you had?”

Clint points to a bottle monument he’s erected and some kind of bottle cap target game he’s been playing.

“Wow.  Did you leave any for the rest of us?”

“Ain’t no us.  Dinnit invite anybody else.”

“Oh…,” Kate said, as pieces started falling into place.  This wasn’t just another regular night with the people from the apartment.  This wasn’t the “come as you are, go as you please” building party.  He had meant this to be something special just between the two of them.  “So…you just decided to get drunk on the roof all by yourself?”

“I guess so.”  Clint said a little roughly.

“You sure that’s such a great idea, you know, given your track record of falling from high places?”  Kate, of course, opted to try and joke her way past the awkwardness the moment was bringing. 

“What do you care?”  Clint replied harshly.

“What?”

“Sooner I fall down and can’t get up the sooner you get to be me.  That’s what you want isn’t it.  That’s what you care about.  Just want to be an Avenger.”

“I care, Clint.  I care about you.”

“Psssh,” Clint sprayed.  “No you don’t.  Why would you?  Nobody else does.  Why should they?  Why would anybody?  No, you care about being a superhero.  Why is that?  Why do you care at all? 

Kate, taken aback, could barely muster up any words before Clint continued his rant.

“Something real bad happened to you in the park, didn’t it?  So, now, you suit up and you make sure it doesn’t happen to anybody else, right?  I’m right, aren’t I?  Don’t have to have hawk eyes to see that.”

“How do you – Clint, you don’t – I – I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We’re not talking about it.  I’m talking about it because you didn’t come.  Never even bothered to show up.”

“I’m not sure how you know any of this or where all this is coming from Clint, but I think maybe we should get you downstairs so you can sleep this off.”

“I’m not like you, Katie-Bird.  Can’t stop the bad things that happen to kids like me.  I just wanted to save some people.  Be seen.  Be noticed.  ‘Stead of being beaten all the time.”

“Clint…”

“But, hey, that’s what I do, right?  If there’s one thing the Barton boys are good at, it’s getting a beating.”  Clint swayed a little and held his arms out wide.  “Beat on me all you like.  I can take it,” he said and pounded on his chest once.  “I’ve taken beatings from some of the best this world’s got to offer.”  He pounds his chest again, harder.  “Whole fucking world wants to beat on me,” he says and stiffens his bottom lip, “I say bring ‘em on.” He beat on his chest again, even harder.  “Bring. ‘em.  On.”  He says punctuating each word with another shot to his own chest.

Kate winced with the blows and then says, “Okay, tough guy, you want to stop kicking your own ass and come downstairs with me?”  She held out her hand.

“Hear that world?” Clint shouts as he leaps up to the edge of building.  “Clint Bishop and Kate Barton say Bring it on!” He hits himself again hard enough to stagger himself.  He begins to fall and Kate quickly reaches out and grabs the back of his pants by his belt.  When he does fall it’s backward toward the roof where Kate catches him.  More or less.  More like she’s there for him to fall on top of.  Clint stirs and begins to push himself up and stops to look at Kate below him.  His blue eyes soften briefly and Kate takes them in for a moment before a pained look returns to his face and he looks away.

Kate works her way out from underneath him.  “C’mon, Boss,” she says and helps him to his feet.

“You win this round world.  But I’ll be back.” Clint utters sorrowfully with his arm around Kate’s shoulder as she steadies both of them.  He casts his face downward to the ground and there are tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

“You tell ‘em, Hawkeye,” Kate whispers encouragingly.

>>>\--------------------->

Through no small amount of effort on Kate’s part they make it down the stairwell and back to Clint’s apartment.  Once they get inside she guides him toward his bedroom where he puts a hand up on the frame to stop them in the doorway.

“I lied to you Katie,” Clint says as he turns to look at her.  Hints of the pained look from before start to creep into his face.  “I lied to you and I said I wouldn’t do that.  I promised.”

“Clint, I don’t think now’s the right time to confess anything.  You’re hammered and whatever it is can wait until you’re, you know, not.”

“I promised,” Clint continues on anyway as he takes her chin in his hand between his index finger and thumb and guides it up near his face until he’s looking directly into her eyes.  He places his lips over hers and kisses her warmly.  The kiss is long and full of want and brings a heady rush of blood to both their faces.  It lasts until he pulls away and says, “I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“…” Kate stares dumbfounded.  “Well, thanks for that.” 

“No, I mean, I **_didn’t_** want to sleep with you.  Then I **_did_**.  Now I **_do_** ,” Clint conjugates.

“That’s – that’s good to know, Clint,” Kate grasped blindly for the right thing to say.  She takes his hand in both of hers and led him towards the bed.  Unsure of what to do with revelatory knowledge she says, “I’ll – uh – we’ll have to – talk later.  Just lie down for now.”

“I promised and I broke that promise and now I’mma liar,” Clint said as he flopped onto the bed face first.  “I’m a lying liar who lies.  Lies to perfect Katie,” he said into the sheets just before he passed out.

Kate removed some of his clothes.  At least the clothes she felt comfortable enough taking off and could get off the deadweight that Clint had become.  Really just his belt and shoes and then she covered him with a blanket.  When she left she kept the door open a crack so Lucky could come and go into his room.  He didn’t usually allow Lucky to sleep with him because, well, he didn’t usually sleep.  But he was going to wake up hurt and the dog was good at emotional support. 

She went upstairs to the roof and began cleaning up after his party.  His party for her that she’d managed to screw up and he’d managed to turn into a pity-party for himself.  She’d been given lot to process in such a short period of time.  The kiss.  Insight into Clint’s childhood past and his current emotional state.  The kiss.  His knowledge of her past and feelings toward her.  The kiss. 

“Don’t be such a girl, Kate,” she shut her eyes and scolded herself out loud.  “It was just a kiss.  Just one kiss.”  It wasn’t magical.  It may have been one of the best she’d ever had, but it wasn’t like actual fireworks went off.  Kate then tried to remember if she had raised her foot like some kind of fairy tale princess.  She shook it off and went back to cleaning up another of his messes and throwing away empty bottles. 

There was the foggy recollection of her own drunken episode.  One that, while obscured and hazy, still lingered.  It wasn’t gone, nor was it forgotten, but it had certainly been glossed over.  The boys were sketchy with the details and Clint hadn’t brought it up.  She knew something had happened and she knew he’d done something to try and cover it up.  He faced pretty much everything head on.  Hell, he’d tackle a tidal wave if he could.  If it was something he didn’t want to talk about there’s a good chance she didn’t want to talk about it either.  As scary as it sounded, she chose to trust his judgment on this.  She decided she could do the same for him.  Cover this up and pretend it didn’t count.

Clean up completed and cover up firmly decided upon she stepped up to the ledge at the spot where he had tried to take on the whole world.  “Clint Bishop and Kate Barton,” she pondered with a bemused smile. 

>>>\--------------------->

The following morning Kate couldn’t help but go check on him and when she showed up to the apartment he was awake.  He was conscious.  But that was about it.  She knocked before letting herself in and Clint had his head against the cabinets above the coffee maker. 

“Didn’t expect you to be up and around.”

“I’m not sure I am.  Can you be one and not the other.”

“I think **_you_** can.”  Kate said pushing Clint aside and refilling Clint’s mug and pouring herself a mug.

“I woke up still a little drunk about an hour and a half ago.  Took my coffee to the roof and somebody had already cleaned up.  Was that you?”

“Yeah,” Kate said taking her stool at the kitchen counter.

“Hunh,” Clint said with a slight head bob, “So you did show up after all.”

“Yeah.  You don’t remember me on the roof with you?”

“I’m not sure what I remember and what I dreamt.”

Kate was prepared to let it go and she tried to think about the cover-up but curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “What **_do_** you remember about last night.”

Even though it pained him to do so, Clint fought the hangover to think about it and said, “I remember the rooftop and I remember you not being there and I remember being angry.  Then I think I dreamed that you finally did show up and I was still angry for some reason even though that’s pretty much the only thing that I wanted.”  Clint looked away and took a long sip of coffee.  “ I remember the stairwell but I’m not sure how I got down it and I remember getting back to the apartment,” he paused and looked hard at Kate before continuing, “and I’m hoping the rest is all a dream.”

“Sounds about right to me,” Kate said non-committal.

It was then that Clint noticed something on Kate’s arm.  At first glance he had thought it was an arm guard she’d left on after practicing, but he realized now it was wrist brace.

“What happened to your hand, Kate?” Clint questioned, his tone was suddenly deeper and more serious.  It was full of an intense, immediate concern.  It was a tone Kate had never heard before. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.  I took a fall and landed on it wrong.”  She looked down at it and rubbed the back of her hand.

“Look at me Kate.”  Clint demanded suddenly and lifted Kate’s chin up with his index finger.  He had set his coffee cup down and moved directly in front of her face.  “Did I do that to you?” He asked his bloodshot eyes pleading with her.

“What?  No Clint.  Of course not,” Kate said meeting his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me Kate!” Clint said loudly enough that startled Kate.  He noticed that he scared her so he attempted to quiet himself.  “Did I hurt you?” Clint asked only managing to be slightly softer as his eyes began to glisten.

“No Clint,” Kate repeated as she met his eyes and tried to remain calm, more for his sake than her own.  “You fell from the edge of the roof.  When I tried to catch you, you fell on to me.”

 “You swear Kate?  You swear I didn’t hurt you?” Clint said desperation still in his words.

“I swear,” Kate replied and then recited, “I will never lie to you, Clint.  Ever.  About anything.  Otherwise what’s the point?”

Clint stood up finally and exhaled fully.  He turned his back to her and rubbed his eyes.  Her eyes remained on him.  She could see his shoulders slump.

“When I was a kid,” Clint started, “My dad would drink and then-” Clint stopped.  He really didn’t want to do this.  Not right now.  Maybe not ever.  “Then beat on me or my older brother or my mom.  Sometimes he didn’t even remember doing it.”

Clint hadn’t turned around to face her yet so Kate got off her stool and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You aren’t your father,” Kate said trying to console him.  Then she added, “And I would’ve kicked your drunken ass.”

Clint forced a thin smile and sniffled.  He looked at his bruised chest and asked, “ ** _Did_** you kick my drunken ass?”

“Ha.  No.  You did that to yourself.  It was very macho.”

“Hmph.  Figures…” Clint said as he rubbed the back of his fingers across purplish mass just to the right of his sternum.   “My own worst enemy.  Everybody else gets to take their shots, guess I decided to get in a few of my own.”

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?  Taking a beating is pretty much all I’m good at these days.”

“ ** _That_** , don’t do that.”

“Hunh?” Clint said perplexed.

“Don’t **_do_** that anymore.”

Clint stared sort of stunned.

“Don’t lessen yourself or cheapen what you do.  You’re Hawkeye.   You’re a hero.”  Kate admonished.  “You’re –,” she stopped herself just short of saying “You’re **_my_** hero” and covered it with, “You should act like it.”

>>>\--------------------->

**Author's Note:**

> The same thanks and everything apply.


End file.
